


One night in July

by MetaZigs (Zigster)



Category: Lawless (2012)
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Forrest having emotions, Photo prompt, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 01:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18399944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zigster/pseuds/MetaZigs
Summary: There had been a good reason behind Maggie’s flight from Chicago, and it had a whole lot to do with men and their god-damned egos. "Cockfighting fools, the lot of them," she’d told Forrest one evening when it was late and the fire was low and her drinking cup had long gone dry. She had emotion in her eyes, dark and bitter, and Forrest knew she was looking back on things she’d rather leave buried but couldn’t help but dig up every once in a while as a reminder for herself to not return to that life—to those past men. And yet, she’d found herself willingly surrounded by more fools: the Bondurant boys, who were no gentlemen. They were a pack of wolves.





	One night in July

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wysiwygot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wysiwygot/gifts), [TheAstronomer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAstronomer/gifts).



> Written on a lark to cheer up a friend. *wink* 
> 
> Based on the photo prompt below.

* * *

 

 

There had been a good reason behind Maggie’s flight from Chicago, and it had a whole lot to do with men and their god-damned egos. "Cockfighting fools, the lot of them," she’d told Forrest one evening when it was late and the fire was low and her drinking cup had long gone dry. She had emotion in her eyes, dark and bitter, and Forrest knew she was looking back on things she’d rather leave buried but couldn’t help but dig up every once in a while as a reminder for herself to not return to that life—to those past men. Somehow though, she'd found herself willingly surrounded by more fools: the Bondurant boys, who were no gentlemen. They were a pack of wolves.

Forrest was the leader, anyone could see that. He’d gruff and grumble himself right to the winning end of any argument because he knew he was the most capable, and he didn’t need anyone else disrupting the status quo.

And yet, there was Maggie, standing behind the counter of the Station, cigarette hanging between her peach-pink lips, and worry lines creasing the gentle curves of her beautiful face. Forrest didn’t like Maggie’s worryin' or fussin’. He didn’t like her concerned glances over her shoulder or her perfume floating through the air of the Station smelling better than fresh cut grass drifting by on a summer breeze. It was distracting to him, and it got in the way of him thinking properly, and so, he’d always turn down his nose at her fussin’. Yet, she carried right on anyway. Stubborn as a mule, that girl was.

Stubborn and persistent and _present_. All the time. Even when he didn’t think she’d be, even when he didn’t deserve her to be, even when he didn’t know she’d be: she was there.

 

\---

 

He and his brothers had been hollerin’, spittin’ and cussin’ over this and that and another thing, not getting anywhere but lost in a mix of too much testosterone and moonshine for the better part of an evening one late July. Forrest was the only sober sod in the bunch, sipping on black coffee that tasted like currants and caramel and god-damned chocolate. He’d asked Maggie if she’d tampered with the brew and she just shrugged her slim, silk-covered shoulders and took a drag off one of her hand-rolled cigarettes. She said she’d ordered it special for him from Chicago. He frowned into his cup. He hated Chicago. He liked the coffee though, it was damn near the best thing he’d ever tasted.

He took another gulp before pointing a stern finger at young Jack, telling him off like their momma would if she were still alive, god bless the poor dead woman. That only earned him a punch to the face and he shifted back in his chair, dodging as best he could cause Jack had taken to wearing one helluva gold ring on his right hand, and Forrest knew better than any what a nice slab of metal on your knuckles could do to a person’s mug.

Maggie had gasped at the sight of the boys reverting to violence on each other and Forrest threw a hand out back toward her, knowing she’d be rounding that counter any second and coming for him, ready as ever to tend to anything that needed tending. Damn woman.

“Get out’a here,” he said, his head low and his voice like rolling thunder across the straw-covered floorboards.

“Forrest,” Maggie tried to say and he tsk’d at her, turning in his chair and staring her down.

“Not you. Them.”

“Oh, well fine, then!” Jack spat as he turned on his heel and stormed out through the back. It didn’t escape anyone’s notice that he took a half-full mason jar with him. Howard watched him go, his watery, world-weary eyes following every step with resignation. He shrugged in Forrest’s direction, his frame void of tension and his anger momentarily subdued. Maggie getting that worried look on her face always got to Howard, like it was somehow his fault she was frowning.

Forrest gave him a nod and Howard turned, heading upstairs for the night, mumbling to himself as he went. Maggie turned to him then, her slim fingers ghosting over the bridge of his nose and the top of his cheek, tutting at the state of him.

“M’fine,” he huffed, shifting away from her. She dropped her hand and stepped back behind the counter, her jaw set in a firm line. Forrest knew he’d said the wrong thing but he also knew that no matter what he’d said, it’d probably be the wrong thing as far as Maggie was concerned, so he sat and waited, knowing she’d be back. He could hear her heels clacking along the floorboards, taking two steps this way, and one step back.

“You’re bleeding.”

Forrest raised a hand to his cheek only to have it batted away again as Maggie came to stand in front of him, a bottle of peroxide in one hand and a clean cloth in the other.

“This is going to sting a little,” she told him before leaning in and dabbing at his bruised skin. He hissed at that first contact but didn’t move away again.

“You care too much,”

“You don’t care enough.”

It was the most they’d said to each other in days, he thought as he watched her rip a piece of medical tape with her straight, white teeth and move to place it across his skin, covering the tiny cut. A curl had fallen loose over her forehead as she worked, no doubt blocking half her vision. He figured it must have been frustrating to only half see so Forrest, without premeditation or ill-intention, lifted his hand to push it back for her, curling it just so behind her ear. She froze at the touch, her eyes searching his, imploring for answers that he was unwilling to give.

She stood then, one hand on her hip and her thumb running soothingly over the soft pad of his cheek. _You like this with everyone_ , he wanted to ask, needing to know if she was always the motherly sort or if it was just him she did this for. He didn’t know why he had such a need at that moment to know such a silly thing but he did, and it scared him. He felt so fond of her. So grateful to her steadfast nature. Her god-damned patience with him. With everything.

Emotions like that, with deep meaning and nuance, normally came with a yearning for reciprocation and Forrest had never been good with giving back. But with Maggie, he knew he wanted to try. He stared at her, the gentle beauty of her face lighting up his grease-stained world with so much more than just something pretty to look at once in a while. He found himself smiling then, all soft and fond like, every wall he’d ever built pulled down for her alone to see. Maggie sighed at the sight, her expression a contradiction of too many emotions.

“You don’t know, do you, Forrest?” she said, her voice broken. “You’ve no idea what you’re capable of making a girl feel, do you?”

Forrest tilted his head back further, peering up at her with sharp eyes. What on earth was she getting at? Maggie’s hand fell to the collar of his shirt, her red-tipped fingers teasing along the seam, working his top button free. Forrest’s hand immediately came up to still her progress, his eyes going hard, seeing the implication mirrored in Maggie’s own gaze. He hummed out a warning. His brothers were still near, and they were in the middle of the Station, regardless if they’d closed up for the night.

Not deterred in the slightest, Maggie lowered her head, her lips brushing over his own before she moved to his ear as if to tell him a secret. Instead, he felt a nip to his ear lobe and a rush of warm air as she sighed over his skin, causing him to shiver where he sat. He frowned and pulled her hand away and to the left, forcing her face to move back in front of his. She didn’t miss a beat, shifting easily and kissing him with a fierce need. Something had fired this girl up, and he didn’t know if he wanted to cool her down or stoke the flames.

She straightened then, staring down at him with a set expression. He swallowed at that gaze, knowing exactly what that meant. And sure enough, not a moment later, her delicate fingers were unbuttoning the fabric covered buttons of her blouse to reveal the perfect shade of freshly-poured cream underneath.

Maggie stepped forward, her long legs straddling the breadth of the chair before sitting down primly on his lap, the blue shine of her skirt riding high on her thighs. Forrest found himself pushing the fabric further up her hips, allowing her more room to splay those sinful legs of hers. She pressed into him and the heat between her thighs spoke of promises he’d willingly kill for.

He grunted and bit back a moan as she rolled her hips against his, her eyes closed, her bottom lip caught tight between her teeth. Forrest reached up a thumb to free the abused lip and was shocked into a gasped cuss as she closed her mouth around it, sucking hard. What was she doing to him?

“Forrest,” she breathed, and it was a declaration, a demand, and a question all at once. He knew what he needed to do. The chair scraped back on the wooden floorboards behind him, skidding away with the force of his legs as he stood, his arms wrapped tightly around the wild woman who’d waltzed into his life with her strawberry lips and her soft ginger curls. He walked them to the stairs, holding Maggie aloft as if she weighed no more than his favorite coffee mug, brimming with that rich brew she’d ordered him special, knowing he’d be ruined for any other brew that came after. Maggie always knew.

They fell onto his mattress with a grunt and a sigh, coming together in a whirl of wool-covered limbs and cream-colored skin.

“Take these off, Forrest,” she said, and Forrest knew she wouldn’t be asking twice. He shucked his trousers and stripped his shirt with fumbling, too big fingers, and unsteady nerves, only to be culled into submission by Maggie’s delicate touch.

“Lie back for me.” It was a whispered command followed by a kiss and Forrest did as he was bid, knowing that what came next would turn his world on its head in the most perfect way imaginable. And sure enough, when Maggie sat down on him, coming to rest over his strong, trembling thighs, a cry of her name came punching out of his mouth, guttural and raw.

She smiled at him, perfect and glowing in the moonlight from the open window. Her skin under his hands felt sleep-soft and smooth and her eyes were filled with the wild, feral energy of a cat in heat. It burned Forrest up from the inside out. He loved this damn woman. He loved what she did to him in the dark of night, and he loved her damn fussin’, and her worryin', and her red-tipped fingernails, and her fancy Chicago coffee, and her perfume, and everything else about her down to the freckle behind her left ear that he always kissed before waking her in the morning.

Her nails dug into his skin and he arched his back, the muscles in his neck straining at the feel of what they were creating together. It still boggled him. This feeling. He knew Maggie could tell. It’d spur her on, seeing him lose control. It was an ongoing fight neither of them could win.

Forrest, despite it all, was perfectly fine with losing that particular argument. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This piece wasn't beta'd. Any mistakes are mine, and I apologize.


End file.
